


Moonpining

by BrichABrach



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Cass can't handle her booze, Cassandra has no game, Cassandra is fucking whipped, Cassandra needs time to heal, Crying, Eugene tries, F/F, F/M, Futa Cassandra, Futanari, Heavy Drinking, It really ain't his fault the situation just bore out this way, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Rapunzel means well, Rapunzel tries, Suffering, This took almost a year to write holy fuck, Tree fucked her up, Unrequited Love, because if you don't think that's the flyest shit you can get out of my face, crying and fapping, fapping, oh lawd the suffering, references to the Lost Lagoon, that's why I fuckin love this shit, written pre-season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23112397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrichABrach/pseuds/BrichABrach
Summary: During yet another stop on the quest for the Dark Kingdom, the group is allowed a chance to rest in safety and enjoy a local celebration. Cassandra finds resting to be harder than it sounds.
Relationships: Cassandra/Rapunzel (Disney: Tangled), Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel
Comments: 1
Kudos: 63





	Moonpining

**Author's Note:**

> Started this during the long wait after the season 2 finale, and while it was completed well after the show had run its course, it does not take into account any of the events of season 3.  
> Having seen 3, I can firmly say Beginnings can fuck off. In my book, Lost Lagoon remains the canon narrative of how Cassandra and Rapunzel met.  
> The nature of Cassandra's injury after the Great Tree was (frustratingly) vague. We need more fics where it's a factor.
> 
> My fellow sufferfans, this one is for you

For the first time in weeks, the summer evening’s breeze blew past Cassandra’s body without her shell of plate armor as she walked the village streets.

They’d come to the town, hoping to resupply (and perhaps enjoy the upcoming festival of Waning Summer), but found a population under siege. From the frightened people—the ones that could be coaxed into cracking open a door or easing a shuttered window—they learned that the village had been terrorized many past nights. By roving brigands, some reported; by rampaging beasts, avowed others. The conflicting testimonies had the same result, the people left in isolation and fear from neighboring towns.

Cassandra might have pushed for the group to depart in pragmatic (if callous) hurry, and even Eugene might have advocated leaving well enough alone, but there was no arguing with Rapunzel. Lacking severely in numbers, Cass finally regretted the departure of Hookfoot from their party, but she and the others prepared nonetheless in what ways they could, even drawing out some assistance from a handful of the braver townspeople. Then they waited for nightfall and the brigands, or beasts, dark would bring.

As it turned out, it was both beasts AND brigands; a savage band of ruffians and snarling, shaggy creatures. 

They were fortunate for the lowered tension between her and Rapunzel; their own small fiasco with the memory wand was something she was eager to forget but the terse leftover resentment of the Great Tree would have no doubt impeded the group’s effectiveness. It was a tremendous, chaotic brawl nonetheless, a maelstrom of blades and teeth and fists and lashing golden hair lit sporadically by torch and the eruptions of blazing traps (the result of a bout of inspiration of Rapunzel’s part). Cassandra believed she even saw the inky shine of Adira’s sword and the warrior’s infuriating grin in the midst of the melee.

Many other villagers found their courage too and burst from their homes and shops to lay into their tormentors with brash, unfocused fury. Though valor got the better of sense for some, and Cassandra found herself spending a portion of the fight defending a young woman who had entered the fray with nothing more than a heavy pewter flagon.

Exhausted, precariously buoyed by determination, Cassandra fought on, and the battle was won. The malcontents were scattered, the forests and roads were again safe and the townspeople shed their fearful weariness to prepare for the festival in triumph.

The group was hailed as heroes, and it was the village’s insistence that they remain as guests to and through the Waning Summer celebrations. Grateful villagers heaped gifts of food and drink on them, far more than their own stores could contain. Money too, a not insignificant sum, was also offered in gratitude (and accepted a little too eagerly by Lance), which was deemed to go towards the future upkeep of their (exceedingly frequently damaged) caravan, minus a small amount for personal use in the upcoming festival.

The next few days were a rising tide of activity as sister towns and villages traveled the liberated woods to converge in a nucleus of merriment. Games commenced, peddlers prepared their goods, and grounds were cleared for Nigh-Harvest dances.

Cassandra had done her best to avoid it. While Eugene and Lance gracefully basked in the praises of the town, and Rapunzel effortlessly joined in every activity and preparation she could find, Cassandra deftly avoided grateful villagers and avoided most every sort of fun that presented itself, bearing a malaise that weighed on her shoulders, heavier than her armor and not due solely to her belief that such carefree abandon was premature in light the town’s recent troubles. Often she’d stayed in the comfortable rooms their party had been accommodated at a town inn, or insisted on performing maintenance and guard over their untouched caravan.

Despite her efforts she was not able to enforce her solitude for the indefinite period required. One morning while taking breakfast at an irritatingly charming café, Cassandra’s hand seized up while reaching for a teacup. The dish slipped from numb fingers and skipped across the table to shatter on the ground. Cass hadn’t had a chance to fully feel mortified at the staring eyes before the injured limb spasmed wildly, her armored knuckles clacking at the table like a dying spider as she doubled over, suddenly overcome with a sickness she felt in her very veins.

The fit lasted only a moment or two, but it had felt like an eternity as she panted, slouched in her seat, refusing to meet the concerned eyes of the party. Of Rapunzel. There was no excuse she gave, or could think of giving, that was able to dissuade Rapunzel, or convince Cass herself to fight against the princess as she dragged her to the town healer.

The man was aged, brusque, an old soldier himself, and was no more receptive to her attempts to talk out of his demands to remove the gauntlet and plates adorning her arm. She’d been deeply thankful though when the healer had just as firmly ordered Rapunzel from the room; with that, she was only strongly displeased as he worked off the buckles and latches.

Cassandra thought herself good at reading people, at understanding the unsaid thoughts in their faces and posture. What she saw in the healer’s eyes as he unwound the sullied self-made bandage and looked at the black, pockmarked flesh, made her stomach turn cold. It was the look of a man who had seen similar wounds before, almost always on dead souls walking. When his old eyes flicked up to meet hers there was only silence for a long, long moment.

There were no platitudes or assurances, or even pity. Just direct (if less gruff now) questions and commands from the healer, testing the strength and range of movement of her digits and the diminished muscle that twitched beneath the marred tissue. He prodded and poked carefully, nodding to his own secret conclusions—though Cassandra was heartened somewhat by how much she could grip and feel even with the tender flesh—and when he was done he left her in the room and went to an adjoining closet. He returned with pots and bottles and pouches, applied several ointments before bandaging her hand and arm. He instructed her on those herbs used to purify the blood, and the measures of a tincture to calm muscle fits. When they were finished, bundle of medicines in her satchel, Cassandra offered the healer her packet of coins. His hands, scarred and withered by mere age, pushed the money back to her, he and offered Cass a small, prim smile. It did not hide the silent, heavy doom in his eyes.

She’d found Rapunzel pacing in the porch of the healer’s house. Her face, tight with worry, made Cassandra’s stomach turn in altogether different ways. The questions, frantic and all too well-meaning began to pour from her lips and forlornly Cass raised a simple eyebrow, face quietly pleading: no questions. Rapunzel’s mouth hung open, fighting against her worries, but with clear reluctance ceased. 

Advised to forgo her heavier layers for a time, Rapunzel was all too happy to retrieve Cassandra’s shirt and leggings from the caravan and ferry them to the inn. Cassandra declined her further offer to help remove the heavy metal plates with practiced firmness, and in privacy shed the armor completely, donning her old outfit for the first time since the Tree.

Despite the feeling of exposure, of vulnerability, the soft lightness of the familiar clothing settled onto her with comforting ease. After a moment of hesitation she decided to forgo a glove on her unwrapped hand, bound and gathered her armor into her arms. The battle had done its work on the ancient metal, scoring and denting the plates. There were several choices of metalworkers in the town, and she had chosen one or two as suitable for the repairs. She hoped at least one would be free enough to see to her needs.

Cassandra was surprised when she opened the door and found Rapunzel leaning against the frame. She straightened suddenly, braid swishing with the rapid movement “Oh! Hey, Cass, up and about again today?” she asked quickly.

Cass shrugged, raising the set of armor “Figured I would get this looked at while we’re still in town.”

“Sounds like a great idea!” Rapunzel beamed “Want any help with all of that armor?”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed. Rapunzel’s smile was wide but tight with badly masked worry. She stared, waiting for those green eyes to move to her hand.

“I think I got it, Raps,” she said flatly, beginning to turn away.

The reaction was immediate, Rapunzel visibly crumpling, her forced cheer deflating. Cass paused. There wasn’t pity or condescension in Rapunzel, now or before. Just her usual terrible, agonizing, wonderfully caring way. Her chest tightened as the princess picked at the buttons of her vest, gaze downcast. Cassandra inhaled quietly, then held out a pair of greaves.

“Alright, but you asked for it, don’t try to push them back onto me because your arms get tired,” she said, bumping Rapunzel’s shoulder with a smirk as she took the pieces. Again Rapunzel beamed, and she could tell it was genuine.

-

After dropping off the armor at the blacksmith (who had practically tripped into his forge with the haste he moved to serve a hero of the town), Cassandra stood in the mid-morning sun. The town was growing increasingly lively as the day continued, promising new entertainments for villagers and visitors, with one in particular that must have been anxious to experience them.  
“What’s the plan today? Think you’ll be able to set up all of the stands and visit them too before sundown?” she joked.

Beside her Rapunzel rubbed the back of her head “Actually, Cass, I was hoping you and I might spend today together,” she clasped her hands in front of her waist and looked up at Cassandra, seeming strangely small. Cass bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to sigh and also come up with the least upsetting way to excuse herself, but Rapunzel turned to face her full on, face somber.

“It feels like I’ve barely seen you in days, Cassandra,” she said quietly “I know all of…this isn’t your style, but we worked hard, you worked hard to help this place and all these people. You should be able to enjoy it a little.”

Cassandra shifted on her feet, glancing anywhere but Rapunzel, feeling something she didn’t want to accept was crumbling resistance. Really, what else was there for her to do? Now Cass couldn’t even pretend that she was busy polishing her armor.

“Oh, no, hey I’m enjoying myself just fine Rapunzel,” she lied through her teeth “besides, I’m sure Eugene could use some attention too.”

It was Rapunzel’s turn to bump Cassandra’s side “Just because he’s my boyfriend doesn’t mean I have to spend every day of every festival with him” to her credit Cass managed not to wince at the word ‘boyfriend.’ “Besides, I’m pretty sure he booked the day solid. He’s seeing every barber in town.”

She wasn’t sure if Rapunzel was pulling her leg but Cassandra’s guarded demeanor broke and she laughed, head thrown back, harder than she had in months. If not a jest, Rapunzel still joined in, giggling brightly alongside Cassandra. Eventually she straightened and grinned.

“Fine, fine, but no face painting, you hear me?”

True to her word and more, Rapunzel led them on a path that avoided the most crowded areas and included more than a few armorers. They browsed jewelers and carvers, cheered for opposing duelists and threw coins to actors playing out quick comedies and dramas. Rapunzel let mesmerized children stroke her loosed hair while Cassandra stood nearby arguing with a blade vendor over the ideal spearhead shape. They were sent choking and coughing away from the samples of a spice seller and ran down a half dozen pickpockets. A wine merchant, whose cart had been stranded in a ditch when they arrived—and he had stubbornly refused to abandon, even in the chaotic battle to come—recognized them and offered a fine glass bottle of a dark, strong smelling liquor, as his thanks. Rapunzel was no heavy drinker and Cassandra preferred beer, so they politely disentangled from his equally stubborn generosity, promising to collect it ‘later’.

The sun was passing its zenith while they sat on precarious wooden chairs under a low pavilion, bowls of rich mutton stew in their laps. Cassandra had been relating a story from before the princess had returned to Corona between bites when she noticed Rapunzel had been silent for some time, eyes in her direction but half focused. She stopped short, awkwardly stirring her food and cursing herself for rambling.

“Oh…I guess I let that one get away from me. Sorry.”

Rapunzel straightened, eyes widening, refocused “No, you didn’t! I mean, it’s fine. I just,” this time it was Rapunzel who treaded the awkward silence before giving an embarrassed smile “It’s nice, Cass. It’s nice to hear you just talk, to see you dressed like yourself again. Ever since what happened…back then, I’ve missed you.”

Cassandra fervently hoped the shade of the pavilion was enough to hide her blush. She cleared her throat and made a show of stretching “Well, I lost track of where I was going with that one, how about you take the next story?”

Soon after Cassandra and Rapunzel departed the increasingly crowded main thoroughfares and were wandering the less intense streets of the town. The sign (and smells) of a bakeshop caught their attention. While Rapunzel swept over the displays of cakes and pies, Cassandra milled near the entrance, stomach not overly concerned with obtaining anything sweet. 

A call however caught her attention and she strode across the shop to a beckoning Rapunzel, who pointed to a corner of the display case. Sticky sweet cream buns, studded with blackberries. “Remember these, Cass?”

Similar pastries from a baker woman had become Rapunzel’s favorite early on after her return to Corona. When the shop owner had died suddenly, the princess took it especially hard. Cass wondered if Rapunzel had ever asked Atilla to recreate them. There was an unmistakable melancholy with the nostalgia in Rapunzel’s face and with a sting of homesickness in her own chest Cass realized she did not in fact remember what those buns had tasted like.

She placed the money in front of the flour dusted boy at the counter and took the paper wrapped buns—still warm—and offered one to Rapunzel. Cassandra gingerly placed a hand on Rapunzel’s shoulder as they walked out. She didn’t flinch away like the fretful side of her mind feared, and she gave a reassuring squeeze. Rapunzel said nothing, but moved herself closer to Cass’ side.

They ate under the shade of a tree on the edge of a ground cleared for dances that evening, leaning against the trunk. Her bun was delicious, immaculately prepared and fresh, and Cassandra was a little embarrassed by how quickly she’d devoured it. She scraped away a smudge of sugar from the corner of her lips and glanced at Rapunzel, who happened to bite down on a particularly plump blackberry just so, speckling her nose with dark spots of juice to join her freckles.

Cass couldn’t contain the chuckles of amusement and Rapunzel, her mouth still full, snorted, trying not to eject her bite. She elbowed her side, which did nothing to halt Cass’ snickering, and fumbled for a handkerchief.

“Good as you remember?” Cassandra asked when Rapunzel finished chewing, taking a sip from her water flask and offering it to her.

“Better, I think,” Rapunzel said earnestly, grinning. Yet a moment later her face fell “But not the same.”

“I guess not much is,” Cassandra replied, absently pulling up individual blades of grass. That was a way to say it, everything was different, they were months and Sol knew how many miles from home, from everything. How many months, how many more miles would it be before Rapunzel finally reached her destination?

Rapunzel pulled her knees to her chest and hugged her legs. “I don’t think it can be.”

Cass knew it was true. Rapunzel’s hair, Varian, all of the magic and mystery and danger… Bandages rippled over her injured had as she closed her fist. It was intimidating, here in this moment, with Rapunzel’s own enthusiasm seemingly faltering under how much everything had changed so much so fast. Yet for it, Cassandra felt lighter, happier than she had in a long time. Rapunzel tried, for her, for all of them, and despite her own insistence on surly isolation, the princess had made her feel better.

“Things don’t have to be the same. We-” her voice cracked and Cassandra cursed internally “We can make it even better.”

Carefully she scooted closer to Rapunzel, until their shoulders were flush, and offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. Her friend’s eyes lightened and Cass felt her smile become easier as she leaned back.

Fatigue had layered on Cass through the day and finally the warm air and easy sounds of life around her caused a drowsiness to pull on her eyes. She had nearly nodded off when she felt a gentle weight settle on her shoulder and a slight tickle of familiar hair brush her cheek. Cassandra didn’t open her eyes and managed not to startle, merely hoping her thundering heartbeat wouldn’t be noticeable to Rapunzel as she leaned on her.

The calm rhythm of Rapunzel’s breathing was after a while remarkably soothing and such was Cassandra’s concentration on keeping still that she didn’t even notice falling asleep.

She drifted out of dreamless rest to the sight and sound of the grounds thronging with people, with groups and vendors reaching out nearly as far as their outer edge. She blinked in the dim, and saw the sun had set and last light of the day fading out in the sky. Rapunzel’s presence was no longer on her shoulder and she sat up, peering about.

Her mounting concern halted when she found the princess still close, chatting with Eugene a few feet away. Lance was sprawled in the grass, snoring and using Shorty as a pillow, who waved untroubled at her.

She rose and stretched, joints crackling pleasantly. Eugene raised eyebrow. “Well, look who finally got her beauty sleep!”

Cass made to bite out a retort but found that shockingly, Eugene wasn’t wrong. She felt more refreshed and invigorated than she could remember being any time recently. Instead she just smirked and glanced around at the events nearby.

Seeming to pick up on her thoughts, Eugene continued. “You know, if you’re looking to keep up this sociable roll I happened to learn about a tavern that’d be perfect for you.”

She raised an eyebrow, suspicion rising faster than her verbal jab and he raised his hands defensively. “Not because it’s full of hoodlums with a bone to pick or they exclusively serve various forms of snake venom—even if I think you’d count that a positive—it’s just a simple establishment that I believe you’d appreciate. Trust me, I was there myself not long ago and everything is on the up and up.”

The look on her face said just how much she trusted Eugene’s recommendation but Cassandra didn’t believe he was playing any sort of prank. It had been a good long while since she’d had the opportunity and desire to drink at leisure. She glanced at Rapunzel, feeling a reluctance to leave the princess tugging at her core.

“Alright, where is this place?” 

The recommended tavern wasn’t far, and finding its hanging sign helped to dissuade the last worries she had about being sent on a wild goose chase. The exterior was unremarkable but well maintained, and she heard no hints of breaking glass and thrown chair to indicate a bar brawl. 

Pulling open the door and stepping through, she was taken aback by the volume of patrons within. The tavern was thick with a dense crowd of loud but normal people, clustering around long tables and mobbing the bar, with every space in between occupied. The sheer number of people and intensity of noise in the enclosed space caused Cass to falter.

A number of eyes fell in her direction and didn’t immediately move away, persons leaning into and muttering to each other in the noise. The stares spread as patrons nudged one another and pointed and like a ripple passed through the crowd to the bar, where the keep paused in his work and stared at her before disappearing into a back room.

By now the tavern had quieted significantly and much of the crowd was peering in her direction. Sweating, Cassandra was beginning to back out towards the door when the barman reappeared with a thin, frazzled but pretty girl in server’s clothes. He pointed and the girl looked in Cassandra’s direction, brow furrowed, then her face lit up and the man let loose a riotous cheer, which was echoed by the crowd until the tavern seemed to quiver with it.

She remained frozen, tense with the uncertainty of whether to bolt or draw her dagger, as the barman shouldered his way through the whooping and hollering mass to her.

“I wasn’t quite sure without all that armor, but Helen, she couldn’t mistake you,” the man said, glancing over his shoulder at the girl behind the bar, smile wide with fondness that topped Cassandra’s immense bewilderment. “All these days tellin’ the story and we weren’t sure you would ever appear again, even after the fella said he’d point you our way. Oh, I can’t tell you how much it means to us that we can thank you in person!”

Struck dumb, Cassandra’s eyes flicked up to the wall above the bar, finally noticing a large pewter flagon, now sporting several significant dents, mounted like a prize trophy. She glanced again at the girl, Helen, and it clicked. Breaking through a line of bestial thugs cornering the foolhardy young woman and defending her from several subsequent attacks had been but a portion of the long night’s battle, one she’d nearly forgotten about herself, but now Cass recognized those same features, delicate but possessed with surprising valor.

“You…Remembered?” she breathed, despite the girl being too far away to possibly hear, astonishment piling onto astonishment.

The tavern keeper laughed “Even if our finest warrior didn’t talk our ears off about it every chance she had, I’ll never forget the people that saved our town,” he locked his gaze with Cass, eyes brimming with emotion “especially not the one who saved my daughter!”

The tavern exploded into fresh clamor as the man wiped his eyes and gestured. A tall cup, precariously full, materialized from the crowd, which he held out to her. The unbridled vigor of the crowd’s praise sent a shock through Cassandra’s body.

“Ours is a debt beyond repaying,” he said solemnly “but if you will allow us to be your hosts this evening, I hope you may know even the slightest measure of what you have done for us.”

The gratitude poured warmly into Cassandra’s chest like water at the lips of the desperately thirsty. It was overwhelming, dizzying. Heart fluttering, she managed to take the cup without upending it.

“To our hero!” the tavern keeper thundered, raising a fist high. The toast was repeated back by the roaring crowd, along with other cheers and shouts and Cassandra raised the cup.

Eugene was right. The ale was superb, cool and sharp, and the cup was wide enough to hide the wetness on the corner of her eyes.

Cassandra managed to regain her composure quite swiftly as the tavern owner excused himself and subsequent conversations were struck up. Friends and family of the tavern, individuals whose livelihood Cassandra and the group has preserved, plus myriad others simply eager to speak with the stranger in their midst thronged about her. She found herself settling into the attention surprisingly easily, relating key moments of her friends’ battles, perilous encounters, and even stories of adventures in Corona and the lands beyond on their journey. The crowd was insatiable, and the intensity within the tavern only grew as its drinks were consumed

Still, free drinks made the commotion easier to endure. Eventually the barkeep returned, bellowing and swatting away patrons, and led her to a corner table that was the one spot in the building completely empty, promising that she would not be disturbed there.

Of course that sanctuary necessitated departure to acquire additional drinks, and each foray towards the bar was a battle all its own against the deferent but still rowdy mobs fighting for space. As time wore on, ale blurred focuses and Cassandra found herself accosted by the tavern’s inhabitants less and less, providing some relief.

After working her way through the crowd for her third ale he tavern owner implored her to sit and relax and allow one of his servers to attend to her rather than fetch her own drinks. Almost the moment she finished, the keeper waved and hollered and his daughter nearly tripped over herself rushing to her table. Cass could almost swear she saw the girl’s delicate hands quivering as she stood in front of her as if waiting for permission, eyes darting quickly to and away from Cassandra’s direction, faring very poorly at being discreet. Cassandra couldn’t help but smile and raised her cup, offering it to the girl. Her eyes—blue, Cass could now see—met Cassandra’s own. A blush darkened her face and she looked away, pouring quickly. Cassandra could feel herself warming a bit under the collar and tried not to let her voice trip as she said her thanks.

On subsequent returns, Cassandra managed to engage some conversation. Helen was no longer the frenzied fighter of that night, but she proved nonetheless a lively and endearing woman, whose similarly unrestrained adulation (and no small amount of physical charms) quickly put Cass off her composure.

The striking up of music and voices and the buzz of the drink settling onto her mind couldn’t quite hide the quickened beat of her heart, which continued even after the girl moved along to other guests; nor was the cool ale sufficient to counteract the heat spreading in her blood. Cassandra hated being flustered. The drink, that must have been it; too much ale, too fast. Her composure couldn’t be shaken so easily by a pretty face, she was stronger than that. Yet whenever her gaze wandered, and chanced upon blue eyes she felt herself growing warmer and the knot in her stomach winding tighter, so she studiously concentrated on the depths of her ale and the patterns of the table planks between sips. One foot edged out from under the table without thinking, boot tapping anxiously. 

If she wanted to stare in surly silence, she could do that somewhere more private she decided, resolving to depart as she took a final draught.

The moment her cup was empty, the serving girl moved in with the flagon. Cass considered a moment, and decided that one more would be acceptable. 

As she poured the girl not so subtly edged closer, brushing against Cassandra’s leg. Beneath the skirt she felt thigh, full and soft and the touch sent a thrill up Cassandra’s spine and down again. Glancing up, Cass saw the girl’s indirect gaze become less indirect, pretty lips rising in a smile that carried more than admiration. She jerked, snapping her knee back under the table and stared hard into her ale. The girl’s posture spoke surprise and confusion and she lingered for a moment before turning away. Cass dared a quick look and saw the girl’s back stiff and face tight with hurt as she moved to other patrons.

She drained her cup in quick, strained gulps and disentangled herself from the bench, throat dry despite the drink, stepping quickly towards the exit. Voices called after her, many imploring her to return, others toasting her future. She waved a hand and managed to put on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, which stayed firmly planted on the ground, and disappeared through the doorway.

Cassandra staggered past a few of the buildings adjacent to the tavern and then slumped against the wall of a shop. She gasped at the cool night air as if her time in the bar had been spent underwater. Her eyes were screwed shut as she waited for the blue she saw behind the lids to fade again to blackness. After a few moments her breathing slowed and she let out a long sigh, wiping one gloved hand across the damp skin and hairs clinging to her brow. 

Fresh air proved a sufficient, if not complete remedy and embarrassment displaced panic. Panic! She scowled as she ambled along a street, how could she have acted so foolish? Chased away like a skittish dove! She took her short dagger and flicked it irritably. Loosened by drink her fingers lost hold and the knife flew from her fingers, striking the paving stones. She bent to inspect it and snarled at the chips in the metal’s edges. She stuffed it back under her belt and grumbled sourly. No more drinks, she resolved, and continued on.

The town square had fewer people than before, but those that remained were packed much more densely, quitting the outer stalls and tables to cluster in the center. Tall torches and lamps lit the now cleared space. Pairs and groups and even a few particularly inebriated single persons danced to vigorous music, spurred by onlookers clapping and stomping in time with the musicians. Cassandra settled against a post at the edge of the spectators and watched on. She was disinclined to dance at the best of times but she knew better than to make a fool of herself twice in one night by baring her drunken movements to the crowd.

Still, the energy of the celebrating townspeople was as bright as the torch flames, their relief and jubilation infectious. In spite of herself Cassandra felt her mood lifting and she hummed along with the tunes.

A flare of gold emerged from a knot of dancers whipping along with the vigorous twirls and twists of the person it was attached to. Cassandra felt her heavy insides lift as she watched Rapunzel dance, her enthusiasm as brilliant as the locks of hair flowing behind her. The crowd shared her opinion, roaring cheers and whistles. Even as far away as she was, Cassandra could see in perfect clarity the joy in the princess’ emerald eyes, the wide unabashed spread of her smile. It made Cassandra’s heart swell and tighten and speed up and becalm itself all at once.

Were it from the ale in her belly or the taut pulls of longing overriding apprehension, Cass suddenly cared little of appearing a fool. Rapunzel would be delighted to dance, and what trouble was the judgement of a crowd next to that radiant smile and energy shining upon her. She began threading through the surrounding people, transfixed like a moth bewitched by a candle.

She was close enough to hear Rapunzel let out a laugh that made her head swim and her stomach flutter when the princess stretched out her arms and pulled Eugene from the crowd.

Cass stopped cold and her stomach turned colder. She stood numbly, staring as she watched the man and woman swing in each other’s arms. The lightness inside her was crushed swiftly into a heavy pit at her core as she remembered, realized, and suddenly she felt all too much a fool.

“ _Of course_ ,” she whispered soundlessly, silence lost in the crowd. A moment later she was gone from the square, and the wine merchant’s stall had one less bottle.

-

The brandy was a sickening burn in her already filled stomach, and Cassandra forced herself to believe she liked it as each swig made her drunker, and made her feel less at all. She wandered further into the outskirts of the town, deserted of people with celebrations within and safe wood beyond. She was a quarter of the way through the bottle when she considered returning to the inn. She put away the thought; it would be bad to have Eugene and Rapunzel happen upon her in this state. Worse if it was just Rapunzel. So she stumbled along, weaving through the trees.

The bottle was half empty when it slipped unnoticed from her hand to the forest floor and was left behind. Cass was leaning against a tree, head spinning. She let her eyes drift upward, hoping the sky would be less dizzying. The full moon greeted her. Cassandra hadn’t even noticed, or had she? It was getting harder to recall the night’s events. Not hard enough, she thought bitterly and felt a fresh pang of ache in her chest. The moon met her bleary gaze unflinching

 _Wither and Decay_.

Cassandra flinched at the ghost of the words in her head. “Damn it,” she hissed, willing herself to forget. But the memories came regardless. Danger: struggle, crushing vines and desperate voices. A weapon just out of reach, a friend close enough. Too close. Fire: burning cold upon her hand, not just pain but emptiness. And through it all, her; Cassandra feels Rapunzel in the agony, smells her—tastes—her. The touch nearly takes her hand but gives Cassandra other things, gives her an instant of connection with her princess she could never manage in all the time she knew her before then. She gasps as she stares at the Moon, remembering. She thinks she misses it.

Dulled by ointments and tight bindings and far too much to drink Cassandra’s hand is almost completely numb. Terror seizes her heart and she smashes her fist against the tough bark of the tree with a strangled cry. Pain jolts and she whimpers, cradling the damaged limb to her chest. Adrenaline cuts through the fog choking her mind. Something warm and wet seeps into the bandages, but at least her hand has been awoken.

A stirring in her trousers tells Cassandra that she had awoken something else. Her cock was among the things Cass had long ago chosen not to dwell upon. Not for shame’s sake, her insecurities lay elsewhere, and she found both of the sets of parts she possessed to be entirely suitable. She considered the dual natures below her belt, rare but not unheard of in the lands of the world, as she did all else, with no more or less attention than needed for efficient living. Needless touching was a vice she aimed to eschew.

And yet…

Cassandra deemed herself a creature of discipline but even then she was not entirely above those certain cravings. She indulged herself sparingly in Corona, and it had been even rarer during Rapunzel’s quest that privacy and time aligned as needed. How long had it been since she’d been allowed that relief, weeks, months? Her undamaged hand drifted down and rubbed the growing rod through the layers of cloth. Given attention, her body asked for more, and soon her cock was stiff and straining against its confinement. Her womanhood too called out, but she refrained from touching lower. In many respects Cassandra found she preferred her cock as the utilitarian option, quicker to tend to and more satisfying than prodding at her slit. For what warrior shouldn’t prefer a sword to a sheath?

She worked off her belt and shuffled a little awkwardly out of her baggy overshirt. When she tugged down her trousers and was exposed to the dark air she chewed her lip. She seemed far enough away from possible prying eyes and drunk as she still was she cared little if she was discovered. Tonight wouldn’t be like the quick stressful sessions taken during patrols or foraging missions on the road. No, she would not rush this time she decided, grasping her shaft and slowly stroking.

Later years had come with caution and restraint, a far cry from her adolescence when she had first learned of the miracle of self-gratification. Kastann, the old sun-priest that tended to the Castle chapel often lectured youths (and plenty of adults) too slow to escape his approach on the dangers of errant hands, warning that the Holy Sun would scorch out the eyes of reckless wankers. With the fire of her early teens and the rebellion still present in her mind, Cass was entirely unheeding that warning.

Nor did she limit herself to simple touching. Sometimes she would climb walls and spy through windows of bedchambers of servants she fancied or if feeling extra daring, sneak into rooms and steal small articles and undergarments of visiting noble ladies, taking pleasure in the thrill of her acts as much as the often surprisingly salacious panties and garters she took.

The height of her boldness came some years later, when exploring a dusty maid’s closet she found a conspicuously worn space on a wall and discovered a small disguised hole, granting a view into a lavish bathing room. It took little imagination to deduce its purpose

Cassandra truly had not known it would be the queen she would see, when she chanced to check the spy hole when the bath was occupied, and she very nearly resolved to flee and cease forever her voyeuristic habits upon this transgression. But she was stayed by the sight, entranced. Arianna was certainly a beauty unmatched in the kingdom, but vulgar thoughts had not strayed into even Cassandra’s insolent head. Looking upon the queen’s unclothed form however, Cassandra could not restrain herself. She was so caught up in her pleasure that Cassandra’s practiced composure failed, and as she came she let loose an errant moan. The queen had become alert instantly, emerald eyes flashing fiercely as her head snapped about in her direction. Cass had fled, sick with fear and exhilaration, certain of her doom. 

But her end did not arrive that night, nor the day following. She overheard her father speaking with guards, voice carrying a chilling wrath, as he relayed the queen’s discovery and the orders to search for the culprit.

That should have been the end of it, and it was, for a while. But as days passed without consequence Cassandra found herself unable to escape thoughts of the queen’s beautiful body and those sharp, regal eyes, and the fire the memory lit in her loins. She dared not tread near that closet or bathroom again, but eventually danger turned to challenge. Discreetly scouting the entryway to the royal chamber, she judged that it was neither occupied nor soon would be soon and stealthily crept through the doors, intent on pilfering some small trinket of the queen’s. Her racing heart nearly burst when a vice hard grip clamped down on her shoulder, from an all too familiar hand.

Her father had not ceased his efforts to find the intruder or reduced his vigilance as much as had Cassandra hoped. Face stone hard and livid, he dragged her, aghast and red faced, back to her room. She’d expected the explosive tirade, the furious explosion about her misconduct and disappointment, and she weathered it in the practiced manner of the youthful and troublesome. But when the captain of the guard’s lecture ended sooner than usual and began to disassemble and inspect every inch of the room with extreme thoroughness her panic renewed. It did not take long for her father to uncover the hiding place where she stored certain illicit objects, including the collection of keepsakes borne from her invasive antics.

He threw the stolen articles into a sack and strode out without another word. Judging herself confined to quarters, Cassandra settled into the remaining hours of the day miserable with shame and fresh fear. Every manner of punitive drill and more she imagined, old as she was Cassandra knew the captain could still thoroughly tan her hide, and that was to say nothing of what might occur if her misdeeds were shared. Yet when her father next entered the doorway, it was simply to summon her to dinner.

As they ate in agonizing silence, he informed her that she would split her duties between guard activities and castle service, effective immediately. If Cassandra had such an interest in other people’s chambers and clothing, then laundry would certainly prove to her liking. There wasn’t another word the rest of the meal. Despite the downright miraculously leniency, the prospect of servant duties filled Cassandra with churlish dismay. Her reaction was clearly evident on her face, and for a moment she could swear her father’s mouth twitched in amusement. 

That was the last they ever spoke of it. Cassandra would come to realize the relief her father displayed that the matter was settled as the impropriety of an insolent teenager, and that Cassandra had not been found out by others where the consequences could have been much more severe. As it was, the captain managed to close the matter quietly. Precisely how much the queen herself knew of her doings Cassandra never knew, but early into her new service she’d passed the queen in a corridor and to her intense, silent horror, saw Arianna shoot her an amused, knowing glance.

The ramifications of those events on her later life were both sobering and amusing.

Hardening fully, she bit down on her glove and pulled it off, spitting in her hand and slicking her cock. The saliva was thin and quickly dried but the sensation was much better than the tough glove and her new strokes made her sigh.

When these sessions were undertaken as mere necessity, used only to remove a persistent distraction, Cass usually focused on pure, almost forcible stimulation, the quickest and most efficient solution while keeping her mind largely blank. But given the luxury of time, she indulged in a few fantasies. She remembered the girl in the bar—what was her name?—the brush against her leg and her cock pulsed.

_Grinning, she leads the serving girl to an empty room in the back of the tavern, intent on receiving the full measure of reward for her heroism. They’re pressed against a wall. Cassandra’s hands grip the girl’s soft thighs as she works off Cass’ belt, whispering desire between kisses to her collarbone. Released, her rod slips between the girl’s legs, squeezed by the flesh of her thighs as she slides in quick thrusts_

Cassandra gasps, jolted by how close she is already and forces her hand away. Her balls ache at the denied release and her cock throbs vainly. She refuses to let her pleasure cut short so quickly and slows the pace of her strokes, trying to moderate the mental imagery. Soon she is slick at both aspects of her groin and attempts to hike up her fitted shirt away from the wetness.

Drunk and increasingly taken by lust, the usual focus of her self-pleasuring is absent, and part of her mind drifts to forbidden places. Cassandra sees gold.

 _No_

She shakes herself pushing away the intrusion. Not that; she’d made the commitment long ago, for her sake as well as her own. Cassandra takes the serving girl in her thoughts, straining more from what she wants to not imagine. It is too late.

_Rapunzel’s green eyes flash with joy from countless memories, adorable buck prominent in her grin behind lips that seem so easy to kiss-_

_No!_ Her cock jumps with a spike of pleasure more intense than she’d felt in her current fantasy, and a whimper to match issued from Cassandra. Desperate, she abandons the thoughts, turning to old and recurrent thoughts.

Defeated, Adira kneels at Cassandra’s feet, the huge woman’s hands bound and proud eyes dangerous but unresisting as Cass’ grip on white hair pushes her head forward and Cassandra’s cock deeper into the warrior’s throat 

_Seizing a precious quiet moment between endless sessions of petitioners at court, Rapunzel pulls her behind the tall throne, pressing against Cassandra’s armor and crashing their lips together. The scant cover of the chair does not hide them in the least from the remaining guards and courtiers, but Cass cannot remain concerned as Rapunzel’s stress melts away with a moan of contentment against her mouth_

Cassandra’s snarl comes out a choked sob, her eyes burning with tears.

The sun-priests held that when the night came and the Moon reigned in the sky alone, it grieved the departure of the Sun, and that this discontent might seize upon mortals, inspiring much of the melancholies and rash actions which transpired in the night. Moonpining waxed and waned with the cycles above, being strongest when it was full. Cassandra rued her indulgences, she was a fool to have lowered her guard on such a night.

She grit her teeth, wetness trailing her cheeks and stroked harder, faster. The thief-lady, Caine struggled uselessly as Cassandra forced her legs apart. A castle servant weakly protests as Cassandra pulls open her dress, but the stuttered mentions of a man at home do not galvanize her to push Cassandra away. Queen Arianna looms over the younger woman with regal poise and voracity in equal measure, preparing to sate Cassandra’s sinful interest in every way she dreamed.

These fantasies and more passed in a blur, vulgar and lurid and completely unable to save her. The visions of what Cassandra dared not dream subsumed all attempts at evasion.

_Their clothes soaked, Cassandra does not have to hide her glances or pretend not to appreciate the way Rapunzel’s dress clings to her body in the waist deep waters of the Lost Lagoon, nor must she worry about crossing boundaries when she takes Rapunzel’s hand and allows her to lead her to the shore and they undress each other, settling down under a shaft of sunlight from the restricted sky. Hand in hand their naked bodies touch without worry as they gaze at the sunken stones beneath the water, their tokens of the ancient love-vow they discovered and repeated so long ago._

_Now queen, Rapunzel’s emerald eyes radiate love and absolute trust, lifting the doubts that had weighed her heart even to this very moment. Cassandra looks and sees fiery pride in her father’s eyes, approval in the faces of Frederic and Arianna. She rises from her knees, accepting her father’s helmet and swearing to honor the kingdom as Captain of the Guard._

Grief rips through Cassandra’s chest, the treasonous thoughts inflicting pain as sharp as any material iron. She cries out and turns wrapping an arm around the tree and bracing one shoulder against the trunk, as many breaths coming as halting sobs as normal inhalations. Tears poured freely from tightly shut eyes. But still Cassandra stroked, egged on by miserable need and sheer focus on the impossible things in her mind.

_“Cass, I’m close,” Rapunzel whimpers. She would respond, but Cassandra cannot manage to find enough air to fill her lungs as it is, and so simply offers a breathless gasp to the girl beneath her as she thrusts._

_They’re a sweaty press of bodies on the scattered covers of the bed, Cass’ muscles straining against the lithe form beneath her. Rapunzel’s nails rake passionately but with care on Cassandra’s hips and back. She knows that she is close too, testes growing nearer to bursting with each slap against Rapunzel’s groin. She groans from the building pressure and Rapunzel grins, understanding._

_One hand finds Cass’ and strong, slender legs wrap around Cassandra’s hips, holding her close. As if there was such a need. Cassandra feels Rapunzel’s pounding heartbeat through the crush of their breasts and feels her own already racing chest swell._

“No…Please…No-” Cassandra weeps between breaths, pleading futilely to her own thoughts, feeling the oncoming climax. Her hips pump madly, dripping into the air.

_She imagines her seed filling Rapunzel, holding her friend, her queen, her joy. They can have a life together, one of love and faith in each other; a family whose children knew and were treasured by their parents. Those eyes, ever beautiful, transfixing, looking at Cassandra with love for the rest of their li-_

Cassandra’s head spins, and blurry pleasure sets her body trembling. 

By a miracle, she stops herself from calling out Rapunzel’s name.

Cum splashes against the tree’s bark in thick, explosive bursts. Through the horrible ecstasy her mind blanks as she continued to stroke, coaxing out every drop the past weeks had built up. When she was spent, she toppled back in the grass of the forest floor, sticky with too many sorts of fluids. She passed out before another coherent thought can form

Before sunrise she found the smith stoking the embers of his forge. Surprised by her early arrival and clear dishevelment but not commenting on either, Cassandra was glad to find he had indeed completed the work.

Sunrise found her decked again in the plates, sharpening the razor edge of her sword in the silent shadow of the caravan and like company of the trees.


End file.
